


The Nightingale

by sunaddicted



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Feels, Light Angst, Loving Melkor, M/M, Marion's hair-freeform, Regrets, Sadness, The difference between Mairon and Sauron is important, Twisted feels, lots of them - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 23:38:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4118860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mairon chooses to cut his hair, Melkor feels guilty for having driven him into becoming Sauron</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nightingale

The nightingale

Mairon critically observed his own reflection in the mirror, fiery orbs fixed on his lithe and frail-looking frame. The warm and liquid light of the fireplace painted luxurious and impalpable robes of orange and gold on his milky skin; his barely tamed hair fell well past below his shoulder blades, a lively flame sensually licking the expanse of his back and lewdly curling just above his pert bottom; the sharpness of his delicate bones reminded of the cutting edges of the gems he so easily handled in his forges; the inky pearls that were his pupils were drowned in a dense sea of melting magma.

With his chin tilted up and his bony yet elegant hands draped on his jutting hipbones, he looked noble and intimidating - even though naked.

Melkor innerly sighed at the sight: once upon a time, his beautiful Maia had been ashamed of his body and fearful of parading it around even in the cold loneliness of his private chambers, his major argument being that nobody could possibly lust after him when he looked so pretty and ethereal - much alike those vain and empty-headed elves they loathed so passionately. It had taken the Vala a long time to convince the shy creature of his unmatched beauty - in his eyes at least: elves and Valar alike could go on and on about Varda's striking beauty but the silvery sterile light of her stars couldn't possibly compare to Mairon's sweetly simmering flame, so much warmer and livelier. It was the blindingly bright display of vitality that had attracted Melkor in the first place, just like a moth to an incandescent flame. That and the exquisite wrapping.

«What's on your mind, my beloved?» The Vala didn't have the habit of using such endearments, but seeing the ghost of Sauron deforming his Mairon's pure beauty, made him act more tenderly than usual in the hope it would bring back to him his Maia.

«I want to cut my hair» he announced in a cold and unfeeling voice, nothing like the soothing and silky melody that used to come to life in his pale throat.

Melkor sat up amidst the messy sheets, creased by their night of burning passion and scented with the mix of their sweat «What?»

Mairon turned around with the grace of a dancer, carelessly dismissing his reflection «You perfectly heard me: I want to cut my hair» He gestured lazily towards the reddish-orange waves hugging his smooth and slightly muscled chest, a solitary strand enticingly curling around his navel and bringing attention to the perfectly groomed and trimmed rusty-colored curls nestled at the base of his sex, flushed and stiff between his virginal-looking thighs

«Why?» The Vala blinked as if it would have helped him to understand better what were the reasons behind his Lieutenant's choice «You love your hair»

The Maia shrugged, fingers idly playing with the golden circlet encrusted with rubies pierced through his left nipple «It's unpractical: it always gets in the way down in the forges, in battle it could be exploited to harm me and while torturing the prisoners it gets annoyingly filthy and tangled» With both his hands he gathered it in a knot at the base of his skull, as if to show his Master how he would look like with his face so unadorned.

Of course Melkor thought he still would look gorgeous: Mairon's hair surely wasn't the only beautiful trait of the Maia nor what made the Vale love him in the end, but it would completely transform his Mairon into Sauron - it would show how deeply he had managed to taint the purity of that spirit «All those reasons, they never bothered you before»

Mairon ignored him and turned back to look into the mirror, an empty and cruel smile on his thin and perfectly shaped lips, uncaring of his Master's worried stare weighting on the small of his back. He knew Melkor didn't love him, not really: he would quickly get used to his new looks and maybe even end up finding it more alluring; since the beginning Melkor had made clear that he was interested into caging him, trapping him like a nightingale to show off. It had been a pleasurable surprise for the Vala to discover that there was more to him than a beautifully crafted mask: a sharp intellect, a weapon to exploit without remorse; immediately moving from a passive concubine to a trusted general and chief in command in his Master's icy blue eyes.

Melkor stood up and stalked to his Lieutenant, embracing him from behind with his powerful and muscled arms and buring his nose in his lover's hair, breathing in the scent of sex and burning wood, barely tainted by a rusty hint of blood; when he had been only one of Aulë's Maiar, it had smelled of scalding metal, cinnamon and orange blossoms «I love you just the way you are, Mai» The long-forgotten nickname easily rolling down his tongue.

«Master, it's just hair: it will grow back» 

The Vala squeezed him a bit «It's a part of who you are»

Mairon turned between his arms and looked up at Melkor and those light blue eyes focused on his features, slants of ice reflecting in every detail his sharp face. Standing on his tiptoes, he reached for the plush mouth hovering above his own and bestowed a feather-like kiss «Do you still wish to keep me in a golden cage, a useles but handsome prostitute to display to the Valar to show off?» he asked bitingly, attempting to force his Master to admit once again his true value.

«Long hair doesn't make you a prostitute, Mai, nor it makes you less authoritative» Melkor whispered on those moist and pinkish lips «Has someone implied so?» He thought it unlikely: Mairon had the terrifying ability of scaring everyone just arching an eyebrow or smirking; he had gained those scared reactions through his reputation of relentlessly cruel torturer.

A laugh escaped the Maia's throat but it sounded dissonant and cutting like glass smashing on the ground «Of course not but it doesn't mean they don't think so»

«Mai.. »

«I've chosen, Master. Now, would you like to do it or should I do it myself?» he asked, balancing a beautifully and expertly carved knife in his hand and offering it to the Vala.

A trembling breath rushed in his lungs as Melkor grabbed the knife: maybe, if he was the one doing it, he could keep it a bit longer than Mairon would have liked.

As those fiery strands fell to the stony ground like streaks of spilled blood, Melkor innerly cried the death of his true lover and welcomed Sauron in his stance, both in bed and to the right of his throne.

Only a strand braided into a circle and hidden to everyone was what later remained of Mairon the Maia.

**Author's Note:**

> It's the first time I tried writing this pairing soooooo tell me if I messed up!  
> And point out any grammatical mistake: I don't have a beta and I'm Italian


End file.
